Month: November 2024

Somehow

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

It feels only fitting, that my day-before-Thanksgiving blog post features Anne Lamott’s Somehow: Thoughts on Love.

The book was a birthday gift, given to me by one of my closest friends. I don’t know how you manage your books, but most of the time, the books that are most recently added to my want-to-read shelves (whether they be library books, or gifts, or books I bought or picked up at a Little Free Library), I don’t immediately read. When I select a book to read, it’s a bit like shopping from my own little library. And not until a few weeks ago, did I select Anne Lamott’s most recent nonfiction book.

My copy is full of sticky notes. This is a beautiful book, and if you enjoy Anne Lamott, I think it’s safe to say you will love this special collection.

Some of my sticky notes were placed because of the subject matter, because I found something Ms. Lamott wrote to be so true or touching. Other sticky notes were placed because I truly was amazed by the way she combined words; I don’t think anyone but Anne Lamott could have constructed some of these sentences. 

Here are just a few of my favorite passages:

“Love is caring, affection, and friendliness, of course, compassion and a generous heart. It is also some kind of energy or vibration, because everything is — the same stuff moving at different speeds, from glaciers to six-year-old boys.
“I wish the movement of love in our lives more closely resembled the grace of a ballerina, but no, love mainly tromps and plops, falls over and tip-toes through our lives.
“Love looks like us, and that can be a little daunting. Love is why we are here at all, on the couch and in the world with a heart for the common good, why we have hope, and a lifeline when we don’t.” 

“Usually grace in its guise as spiritual WD-40 gets in and loosens the tight knot that has formed in the tangled gold chain of my best thinking.”

“The reason I was nobody’s priority was that I wasn’t my own and never had been. It was time to lavish on myself the kind of focused care and affection I shone on everyone else.”

“Life becomes a lava lamp of memories of happier and sadder times, of what might have been, and of a fearful future, accompanied by the burbling sound of advancing time, of which one friend has almost run out, and of which I will too someday (supposedly).” 

“I have stated elsewhere that hope is believing this one thing: that love is bigger than any grim, bleak shit anyone can throw at us. And I believe.”

“If I can get word to my grandson from the other side when I am gone, I will whisper to him when he is in trouble to make a gratitude list – no snakes in the room, yay! – then do his chores, be kind to himself, be of service, get outside, and breathe. This is the launch code when under attack: gratitude, chores, chocolate, service, breath, nature.” 

“Love is how hope takes flight, in swamps and barren fields, arising in different frequencies, blending the way sound vibrations of different pitches organize music. With my failing hearing in our failing world, I try to listen for this song underneath the river of incoming date and my pinball machine mind and I find that it is always playing.” 

“Attics are so spooky, and I had to remind myself that courage is fear that has said it’s prayers.” 

“The sky takes you out into the cosmos, reminding you that you are very tiny but can experience celestial wonders and oceans of love here, even just slogging along together beneath a perfectly ordinary sky.”

Friends, tomorrow is Thanksgiving in the United States. Without a doubt, it can be a holiday with complicated emotions. To all my reader friends, those in the U.S. and those abroad, know that I am so very thankful you’re here, reading my words each week. Thank you!

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

The Lives We Actually Have

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Last week I wrote a personal essay for a submissions call. The prompt was New Year-related — about starting a new project, developing new habits, of making plans to live your dream life.

That last one — making plans to live your dream life — was the one that hurt the most. 

Because that doesn’t apply to those of us living with a chronic illness. 

Because no one dreams of a life with a forever-illness.

No one aspires to live each day with an incurable illness. 

And yet, that is my life. 

And though it isn’t what I dreamed of or what I would have chosen, it is my reality. And mixed in with the medications and heating pads, doctors appointments and physical therapy sessions are also moments of beauty and calm, of belonging and wonder, of a glorious full moon and a sink that isn’t draining.

Which brings me to the book The Lives We Actually Have: 100 Blessings for Imperfect Days by Kate Bowler and Jessica Richie.

You may remember that I’m a Kate Bowler fan. I wrote about her book Everything Happens For a Reason (And Other Lies I’ve Loved) back in March 2023. And I wrote about her book No Cure For Being Human (And Other Truths I Need to Hear) back in April 2022.

This book is different. The Lives We Actually Have is a collection of blessings. 

From the introduction:

“If we are very lucky, we have days lit up with fireworks. We have powerful moments of connection — to the world, to each other, and even to God — that dazzle us. Suddenly, beauty and possibility are everywhere. We thought we were living any old day, but no. We find ourselves amazed by the truths we didn’t set out to learn.”

“Contrary to most of the advice of the self-help and wellness industry, our days are not simply a reflection of our choices. We are not a tally sheet of all our yes and no decisions. We like to imagine that we are built out of every small choice we made.”

“We need a language of acknowledgment for the lives we have, not simply the lives we wish for. We need a spiritual account of time that is rich enough to name the breadth of our experience. Good. Bad. Difficult. Sublime. Mundane.”

“When I bless the actual days I am living, I suddenly find I have a great deal more to say that is honest. I am mourning. I am bored. I am exhausted. I am apathetic. I discover that I am freed from the need to declare everything #blessed. Good or bad, I don’t have to wait to say something spiritually true. I can simply bless it all instead.”

The book is a special collection, with some blessings that really touched me and others not-so-much. 

Dear readers, have any of you read this book? Was there a particular blessing that most touched you/moved you/comforted you? Feel free to share it in the comments.

Here’s a part of just one of the blessings that spoke to me:

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Bonus Time

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

“If you’re lucky enough to get that bonus time, what are you going to do with it?”

That’s the question on the back cover of Bonus Time, the novel I recently read.

Bonus Time by author Claire  Cook tells the story of three  friends — Glenda, Jan, and Harmony.  Women who have reached the ages where their days are not nearly as structured as they used to be, women who don’t have the same daily demands they once had. 

These are three spunky women who are older than I am, figuring out who they are when their days and their identities are not directly related to being someone’s wife or mother or employee. 

I won’t give anything away; I’ll just say that these three women get into all sorts of adventures and “trouble.” 

This week, I’m sharing a few of my favorite lines:

“For the most part, I embraced my wrinkles as the squiggly roadmap of a life well-lived.” 

“I sighed.
“As lives go, it could be worse. I’d been around the sun enough times by now to know that it could always, always be worse.
“And it could always get better. A lot better. And that part was pretty much up to you. You could sit around whining about what wasn’t working, or you could shake things up and reinvent your life one more time. I mean, at this point, who’s counting, right?
“The truth was that life was going to keep getting all lifey on you whether or not you were actively living it, so you might as well slather on some sunscreen and jump back into the fray.”

“ ‘ The focus should be on health-span,’ Harmony said. ‘Not looks-span or age-span or lifespan. Eat healthy. Stay hydrated. Keep moving.’
“ ‘Try new things, Jan said. ‘Keep learning. Use your acquired wisdom to make a difference. Have fun. Connect. Stay current so you don’t turn into a dinosaur. It’s not exactly drone science.’ ”

“ ‘Sometimes,’ I said, ‘I look at old pictures and I think how could I not have known how beautiful I was? I had absolutely no idea at the time. All I could see were an unflat stomach and jiggly thighs. I mean, how old do we have to be to let all that crap go, you know?’ “ 

“We were wearing yoga pants and T-shirts.
“Jan’s T-shirt said LOVE IS LOVE.
“Harmony’s said LITERACY IS NOT A LUXURY.
“Mine said THERE IS NO PLANET B.
“One of the true joys of getting older is not caring what anybody thinks about how you look. Which gives you the freedom to turn yourself into a walking billboard about the things that matter to you if you feel like it. Or not.”

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Accessing Parenthood

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

In 2019, I wrote a personal essay titled, “Paying the Price,” and submitted it to the Pen 2 Paper writing contest, a “disability-focused creative writing contest.” That year, in addition to submitting in the Nonfiction category, I also submitted my essay to the Oleb Books Personal Essay category, meaning my essay, if chosen, would be included in an Oleb Books Anthology about parenting and disability. 

Five years later, I am so proud to share my essay, “Growing Up with Me and My Invisible Disability,” has been included in the recently published anthology, Accessing Parenthood: Stories By and About Parents with Disabilities.

During the last five years, my essay has been slightly edited and re-titled. (I admit — titles are not my strength. The editors politely informed me I needed a different title, one that would “add some pizazz that will pull readers in and make them curious enough to read on.”)

A few details are no longer accurate — namely the ages mentioned and the fact that our Los Angeles Clippers now play at Intuit Dome. 

But the emotions and the lessons learned haven’t changed.

Here are just a few passages from my personal essay:

“If I agreed, made the plans, and went horseback riding, would I be demonstrating the valuable life skills of perseverance and resiliency? Was my let’s-do-it attitude fortitude or stubbornness or stupidity? Was my go-getter-ness a refusal to submit to my disease or a life-affirming decision to go out and do things that might seem scary, hard, and uncomfortable?
“I didn’t know.
“I did know I wanted Ryan to grow up believing in himself and believing in the value of trying new things. Many things — food, music, places, experiences. Because they’re new and different. Because he’s curious. Because he wants to find out for himself. 
“I wanted Ryan to grow up living his life.”

“Through my actions and my words, I am trying to teach Ryan the broader definitions of strength, perseverance, and bravery. And along those lines, I’m trying to teach by example broader definitions for disability, pain, and handicap.”

“Maybe I hadn’t planned on being a mother with an inivisible disability, but it doesn’t change the way I love my son. Maybe I am teaching my son lessons I hadn’t expected to teach him. Maybe Ryan’s levels of patience, empathy, and sensitivity have grown exponentially while he’s growing up with me and my invisible disability.”

You can find out more about this unique collection by clicking here. 

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.